


A Bright and Hollow Sky

by Shampain



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, DameRey, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Gen, M/M, holiday fluff, possibly jedistormpilot, this story has a soundtrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: Ben Solo - stage name Kylo Ren - has just gone from respectable musician to complete rockstar, selling out stadiums and touring the continent with his trusty yet irritable manager Hux. The last thing he's wanted to do is go home and face his family, all musical legacies in their own right, and all of them with opinions on his career. But when his father has a heart attack, Ben can't avoid going home any longer.Things have changed since he left, though. His parents now have Rey, a young musician living with them while she records her debut album with his uncle Luke. And the bar that has hosted famous musical acts for the past several decades, which Ben grew up in, will now be centre stage for a lawsuit involving a long-dissolved punk band with some very familiar members.A fun, fuzzy, domestic, ridiculous romp about family - the family you're born with and the family you make.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. The Passenger

It was always the audience that did it for him, the way that they screamed. Sometimes it was his name, but most of the time it was unintelligible, like a sound roaring from the throat of a gargantuan beast. He would bow his head against it, feeling the sweat drip down his forehead, and for a moment he would be whole.

Then it would all be over. Kylo would step off stage and drink a bottle of water, and think about a shower. Sometimes there was a party, backstage or at a nearby club. He knew there were two types of artists; those who lived for the show, and those who lived for the party. But he had grown up hearing all about the latter sort, and he was wary of stepping down that rabbit hole. If there were VIPs he always said hello, but he drank soda water and never lingered for longer than an hour.

His good behaviour was rarely noted by his manager, who only enjoyed picking apart flaws the way he picked apart an overpriced salad. There he was now, just off the side of the stage, fingertips flying over the screen of his phone that was big enough to be a goddamn computer. His pale, sleepless face and well-fitted suits always made him look like the Devil himself.

“And where are you going?” he asked.

Kylo didn't pause. “To shower.”

“Wait for a moment. The mayor's daughter wants to meet you.”

Kylo stifled a sigh, and then reminded himself he lived for his fans. It was just Hux who was rubbing him the wrong way. “Come on. I'm covered in sweat.”

Hux didn't bat an eyelash; they'd had this discussion before. “It adds to the experience for them.”

Kylo didn't reply, which Hux rightly took as resignation. He turned on his Italian-made heel and led the way backstage.

The weariness was beginning to settle into his bones, but it was a comfortable feeling; if he wasn't tired after a show, it meant he hadn't been working hard enough. He had time to retrieve a fresh bottle of water and ate half a sandwich Hux mindlessly shoved at him before the mayor's daughter appeared.

Refreshingly, she was a fan who followed his exploits closely, rather than just using her father's influence to meet the popular musician of the day. He sat with her and they discussed some of the trends in music, as well as a few museums she thought he should visit either before he left town or when he came through again. He made a mental note to write everything down later.

When the liquor came out and his band began to unwind, Kylo excused himself, figuring he would shower, write a bit in his journal, and then pass out for as long as he could in his hotel room before he was loaded back into the tour bus just like the rest of the instruments.

“I'm heading to the hotel now,” he said aside to Hux, who nodded. He had the phone to his ear but he hadn't been talking; he was probably on hold. With who, Kylo had no idea and didn't bother to find out. If it was important Hux would tell him. “Same. I'll call up a ride.”

Wordlessly they made their way out of the venue, taking the twisting, winding halls before pushing open the one-way doors out into the back lot where the hired car was just pulling up. Kylo took in a deep lungful of fresh night air before getting into the backseat with Hux.

Hux had made an annoyed noise and hung up on whoever he'd been waiting on the phone for, and was now playing some version of Angry Birds.

Well, now was as good a time as any to check his messages. “Where's my phone?” Kylo muttered, going through the pockets of his jacket.

Hux, still looking at his own screen, reached into his front suit pocket and came up with Kylo's phone. “Your mother called,” he said as he held it out, not looking up. “She left a message.” Grumbling, Kylo swiped the phone from him.

Voicemail. Good lord. Why wouldn't parents ever just send texts? Now he had to go to the trouble of dialling his inbox. He would listen to it after his shower.

There was no show tomorrow, which meant a much-needed hotel rest instead of piling into the tour bus in the early a.m. and heading out to the next city. He and Hux were on the same floor but their rooms were on the opposite ends of the hotel. Not bothering to say goodbye they parted after getting off of the elevator, Kylo fishing for his key card before letting himself into his room.

Hux and several of the roadies had complained that Kylo's new shampoo, after a heavy night of performing, made his hair smell like 'sweaty patchouli'. He'd been forced to chuck it and resorted to using the hotel shampoo and conditioner until he had time enough to go out and buy his own. It wasn't that he was particularly fussy, just that his hair was kind of _his thing_ ; he needed to be able to rely on his products every day to keep his mop in good shape. (Hux liked to say Kylo's hair was the only reason he was famous in the first place).

Some of the aches and pains from travelling soothed by the shower, and his hair dripping a bit around his face, he settled onto his bed to listen to his voicemail.

“Ben, call me back when you can. Your dad's had a heart attack. Don't worry, he's fine, I just thought you should know.”

“Ben, honey. How was your show tonight?”

“It- what? Mom, come on, tell me about dad. How is he?”

“He's fine. Really. We figured out what was happening early so we got to the ER in plenty of time.” Her voice was drowned out slightly by a half-shout in the background.

“Was that dad?”

He could hear her rolling her eyes. “Yup. He said it was nothing. Small. An 'oopsie'. Well, Christmas dinner is going to be less heavy on the butter from now on.”

Kylo rubbed his forehead. “Look, mom, about that... I'm not sure me coming home is a good idea, then.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just stress him out, you know that.”

“You don't.” Leia was always terrible at lying to him, but she managed to sound halfway convincing. “We haven't seen you since March, Ben. Come home. It'll be good for you.”

“I'm fine.”

“How many shows do you have left?”

She already knew, of course; Leia followed his schedule very closely. For himself, Kylo rarely did more than see where he was going to be tomorrow; Hux managed the tour schedule, not him. “I don't know. Three. Four?”

“Well, I have your bedroom ready for you when you're done.”

Just like that, it was settled, the same way it had been settled last week and the week before. Whenever he tried to talk about not visiting, she somehow always managed to overrun him. After he said goodnight to her he laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking.

Then he went and got out his journal, starting to fill it in.

Kylo came from what was sometimes referred to by over-dramatic magazines as musical royalty. His grandmother Padme had been a great singer of her time, with a soft, velvety voice that wrapped itself around your brain. Her best known album, _A Great Many Secrets_ , was one of the bestselling albums of the sixties and was still in rotation. Sometimes Kylo would sing a few of her songs during his concerts to slow down the mood; no matter what music his fans listened to, almost everyone knew the words to 'Eighteen Hours Lost'.

And his grandfather, Anakin, had been one of the original punk rockers from America, lead singer of Death Stars. Nearly a decade and a half younger than Padme, they crossed paths in the seventies as he was moving up in the scene. Their romance was a torrid whirlwind that captivated the papers; and it was completed when Padme gave birth to twins. How ridiculous was that?

From then on, a musical dynasty was born. Yet Kylo felt that his upbringing was, more or less, the same as anyone else. Not especially special. It was true that he had spent much of his childhood in a bar surrounded by musicians – his parents owned one of the most respected clubs in the country; it was said if you played there, you could play everywhere – but there certainly wasn't any of the sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. And his parents argued, maybe more than everyone else's.

Getting signed had gotten him out of the madhouse. It could have happened sooner and much more easily, but Kylo had always felt like he wasn't ready, not yet – that he would only be ready by making it on his own. Instead of signing with his uncle he'd fought tooth and nail to get noticed by literally anyone else; and while his name helped in his success, as least he could say his family wasn't carrying him on their back to get him to where he was today.

The first album had been fine, but things had really exploded this year with his second album – he went from playing clubs to arenas, he went to Europe and was slated to do Australia in the new year. He'd barely had time for anything but concerts, sleeping, eating, and songwriting for the next album. Admittedly he didn't think he could have ever done it without Hux by his side, but Kylo would rather drop a speaker on his own foot than admit to it.

In the morning, eating breakfast in the hotel and trying not to breathe in too much of Hux's aftershave, he asked how many shows they had left before the holiday break.

“Five,” Hux replied, automatically. The tabloids liked to poke fun at Kylo's complexion, but they never would have if they ever saw him side by side with his manager – but that was because Hux was the help, not the talent. His fair skin was punctuated by the dark bags under his eyes and he _should_ have had freckles because Kylo thought all redheads had freckles, but Hux was so pale that Kylo was never close enough to actually see if he had any.

It had been a little over a year since they had started working together, and Kylo could only recall one time he'd seen Hux fall asleep, be asleep, or even hint at ever having had sleep, and that was on the tour bus after playing in Chicago, sitting upright in his seat with his forehead leaning against the window. Kylo had stared boldly at Hux, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to indicate he was sleeping and not, in fact, dead. It occurred to him somewhat later that people did that with their pets.

“Five? I thought-”

“We added the second one in Vegas due to demand, remember?” his manager said, taking a bite of his eggs. “Then wrapping up in L.A., and then we don't have to see each other until February.”

“Thank God.”

“You think I want to spend most of my time with a whiny musical legacy?” Hux replied. The insult lacked bite; most of them did. About three months into their professional relationship they came to the mutual realization that they simply didn't have the energy to trade as many jabs as they did and actually mean them. Hux saved his emotion for shouting at Kylo for fucking up interviews and Kylo saved his angry outbursts for when Hux threw out a favourite clothing item because he deemed it 'worn'.

“I dunno. _Do_ you?”

Hux rolled his eyes, then checked his watch. “Is the rest of the band up yet?”

“Dunno. They probably got wasted last night.”

“You don't like them very much, do you?”

“I don't have to.”

The crease of Hux's mouth showed he disagreed. “It's starting to become obvious on stage,” he said. “There's tension. It's better for fans to see more of a family unit up there.”

“Mmn.”

It wasn't that Kylo disliked his band – more that they didn't get along in a few basic ways. Kylo enjoyed socializing and having a drink as much as the next person, and he was young and so was his band and parties would be inevitable. But it was more than the alcohol, it was the drugs. It was the women. It was a strange aggression. Aggressive rockers made Kylo nervous; having a punk grandfather who'd famously gotten his wife killed while driving a Lamborghini on a bender could do that to a person.

“We just won't renew their contracts,” Hux said. Kylo recognized the use of the word 'we' but didn't remark on it.

“Think maybe I could get an all women backing band next year? Hey, is that drummer from Autolux available?”

“She's too good for you,” Hux said, spreading jam on his toast. It was unclear if his manager was speaking musically or romantically, but it probably applied to both if Kylo were to ask.

With his afternoon free, Kylo was able to rope one of the roadies, Nora, into going to one of the museums with him, and then help him pick out new shampoo that would garner better reviews from his people.

Then it was onto the bus and heading out to check into yet another hotel for the next night's show. Hux accompanied him to the radio station advertising the concert, sitting outside the control room and talking on his Bluetooth the entire time. Despite that, Kylo was certain that Hux was tracking every single thing he was saying to the radiot host.

“So, Kylo, last time you were here you were playing at The Vinyl – a great show, don't get me wrong, I loved it. But now you've sold out the entire Warren Theatre. And that's not a new thing for you this year. How's that going for you?”

Kylo shrugged, and then reminded himself this was not a television interview. He had to be wittier than usual to make a mark – and also actually talk. “Well, you know, I miss being able to see my fans' faces. I mean four years ago I could see everyone... all six of them.”

The host laughed. “What, you couldn't draw a better crowd?”

“Not unless it was Wing Night Wednesdays. But you know I have a sinking suspicion on those nights people were just coming for the food.”

“It's a hard business, show business.”

They discussed what he was working on, and then the possibility of him coming back and doing a small lounge show for the station. It wasn't a bad idea; when he'd released his first album, this station had been playing the singles in heavy rotation. “You'd have to talk to my manager, but we could probably set something up,” Kylo said.

“He looks terrifying, though.”

“Oh, nah,” Kylo said. “He's fine. He's only terrifying once you get to know him.”

A week later, they were in Vegas. Kylo stared out his hotel window and down at the Strip, lit up at all times of the day. Even now, there was something thrilling and illicit about this place. He always enjoyed himself here.

He'd left his door slightly ajar, so Hux just let himself in with only a half-assed knock at the doorjamb to announce his arrival.

“You've got a phone interview at four, so make sure your ringer is on,” Hux said. He was staring at his phone and almost ran into the room service trolley. “Ugh. Move that.”

“Hux, just walk around it.”

Hux ignored him. “Don't be late for the tune up. The official after party... you should probably go. Everyone goes, here. But absolutely no Hangover-style shenanigans. I will shoot you. No drugs, no hookers, no parkour, and no tequila.”

“No tequila?!”

Hux glared at him knowingly. “Not even in margarita form.”

“What about whiskey?”

His manager inclined his head. “I'll allow whiskey,” he said.

Kylo walked over to the couch, picking up his guitar on his way there. “Why are you mothering me?” he asked, strumming a few E chords in quick succession. He always liked to do that at Hux when the man was being particularly obsessive. Mostly because Kylo made it sound like a ridiculous Spanish number and it entertained him to think of it playing whenever Hux entered a room. “Just knock a glass out of my hand later if I'm getting maudlin.”

“I'm not going, I'm seeing someone for a late dinner.”

Kylo's hand froze on the strings. “What? Dinner?”

“Yes. It's a meal.”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “Okay. Why?”

“Because I can. But you know, if you can't figure out how to tie your shoelaces later, I'll have my phone on me, never fear.” Hux turned on his heel and was about to saunter out, before pausing and staring down at the room service trolley he'd almost killed himself on.

“This is the fifth day you've had pasta,” he remarked, looking down at the half eaten dish and back over to Kylo. “Be careful. Fat camp _is_ a thing.”

“Just get out. Hell is cold without you.”

Kylo was having a pretty good time; rare for an after party, not so rare for Vegas. At first he'd considered throwing Hux's demands to the wind and starting the night after the show with a few rounds of tequila shots, but something forced him to look at it from a mature angle. Hux knew him well – a tequila night was always wild, which definitely wasn't something he wanted to do that night, not for the tabloids and not for the fact he was playing a second show the next evening. So he stuck to whiskey and water.

At one point in the night he found himself on a couch tucked off to the side of the club, sitting between a beautiful girl and a handsome man. They traded kisses and a few touches until well past one, until Kylo figured the best part about performing in a Vegas hotel was the hotel part. (The second best was, obviously, the room service).

Drunk, laughing, and still kissing, they somehow managed to make it into the elevator. “Wait, wait, whose room are we going to?” Kylo asked, slurring only slightly.

The woman laughed and bit playfully at his ear. “Yours, obviously!” she said. “The rockstar suite.”

“It's more like a normal suite, there's just more free alcohol.”

The elevator doors dinged open. Hux stood there, looking vaguely startled. There was something different about him, Kylo just couldn't put his finger on it.

“Oh, hey!” Kylo exclaimed, surfacing for air; in his absence, his companions simply kissed each other. “It's my manager!”

“He's not invited,” the woman said. “No offence, babe,” she added as they stepped out of the elevator like some sort of six-legged behemoth, rubbing her hand soothingly over Hux's arm. “I just have no idea who you are and Kylo's on our threesome list.”

“Maybe next time, though,” the man said, grabbing Kylo's hand and dragging him away. That's when he figured out the weird thing about Hux was that he was wearing a t-shirt instead of a suit, but he quickly became too preoccupied to wonder about it.

He woke up alone. Apparently that was the really cool thing about hooking up with a sexually adventurous married couple on their anniversary – they wanted to get back to their own bed afterwards and cuddle, so Kylo hadn't even had to come up with a way to politely kick them out.

His head was pounding and his stomach queasy, but things could be much worse. He dragged himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, and was about to call for room service when a knock sounded on the door.

There in the hallways stood his vampiric-looking manager. “Should you be out during daylight?” Kylo asked, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with the heel of his palm. “You’ll turn to dust.”

“Shut it. Come down to breakfast.”

Watching Hux put jam, butter, or really _anything_ on his toast involving a butter knife was a weirdly zen experience. Mental yoga.

Kylo chugged down a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and tried to ignore the smudge on his sunglasses. Ugh, why did they have to sit near the gigantic windows? The place was bright enough as it was. Wasn't Hux afraid of catching on fire?

“The show got good reviews,” Hux said. “Hopefully you can pull a repeat performance tonight. You don't _look_ like you had any tequila.”

“I didn't. Not because you told me not to. I just didn't want to.”

“Whatever you say.”

Kylo propped his chin in his hand. “How was last night?” he asked.

Hux looked startled at the personal query. He probably preferred Kylo thinking he was a robot who powered down in the evenings. “Beg pardon?”

“Your dinner. Date? Dinner date?”

“Dinner was fine.”

“Who was it with?” he continued, partially out of curiosity but also because Hux's expression was amusing him. “Did it end in sex?”

“None of your goddamn business.”

“Come on, you know about my sex life.”

“Not by choice.”

“It wasn't some new musician you're trying to get a contract with, is it?” Kylo asked. It was meant to be teasing, but now that he thought about it he really hoped it wasn't the case. Would Hux be able to divide his attention properly? Kylo needed all hands on deck with his career. Or worse, Hux leaving him for new talent. “Thinking of moving on?”

Hux's snort was all it took to destroy any reason for worry. “And risk ending up with someone worse than you?” he said. “Unlikely. It was a childhood friend in town, that's all.”

“Oh,” Kylo said, relieved. “Okay.”

He hated the weather in L.A. at this time of year. He preferred it during summertime, because in the winter everything went to shit. Unfortunately he wasn't going to be able to head to his apartment in Vancouver this year; Leia had managed to ring out a promise of him spending, at the very least, up until Boxing Day with her and Han.

Sometimes Kylo felt like the only reason his parents had remained together for so long was because of him, and the fact that Han was always travelling for work. Going home for Christmas felt a bit like impending doom, but it wasn't like he had any choice in the matter. He _had_ been neglecting his parents, which wasn't right. May as well go home for Christmas. And if he were to say that his father having a heart attack hadn’t frightened him for a moment, it would be a lie.

He'd booked his flight the night before, knowing he wouldn't have time today. It was eight forty-five and they were already on their way to the offices, Hux speaking animatedly on the phone, Kylo trying to make sure the lip of his takeaway coffee actually made it to his mouth and not all over the front of his shirt.

He couldn't put Leia on speaker in the car so he had the phone pressed uncomfortably against his cheek, leaving a smudge. “Yeah, mom, I'll be there. Uh-huh. Tomorrow at noon. No, it's fine, you don't have to pick me up.”

“Wrap it up, we're almost there,” Hux said.

“Listen, mom, I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow. Yeah. Love you too.”

“Ugh, I wish I could record you during those moments,” Hux said as he got out of the car. “Upload it onto your Instagram. Fans would love it. 'Kylo loves his mom'.”

“Don't you love your mom?”

“Never met her,” Hux said breezily. “Come back at eleven,” he told the driver, before they both started their way towards the tall, shining structure of Empire Records.

The front entry – large and gleaming and impressive – was filled with the same sort of people Kylo was used to. Different faces, same roles. Budding stars, hawk-eyed talent scouts, media gurus and producers. He and Hux strode past the front desk with only a nod to the receptionist, before taking the elevator to the fifth floor.

These sorts of meetings were usually exhausting. It was when Kylo sat down with the producers and agents and company directors and media team and talked about What Came Next. Updates on the new album, what they would be doing with marketing, different things he was to be involved in. Most draining of all, though, was Snoke, the head honcho and driving force behind Empire.

Snoke was a strange man, obsessed with Kylo's rise in the music industry. He prized Kylo for his money-making abilities, but often belittled his musical background. Kylo knew there was some bad blood between Snoke and his Uncle Luke, but whether it was personal or just the fact that Luke kept his label small and independent, and was constantly churning out some of the brightest talents of the industry, Kylo wasn't sure.

In any case, suffice it to say, the meetings were an annoying but necessary evil.

Halfway through as they were discussing some possible new changes to Kylo's website (and being berated about not updating his Twitter enough even though he insisted on doing it himself and not hiring someone witty in the media department to do it for him) a message arrived for Hux. He opened it and read it so subtly that Kylo barely noticed anything had happened; he only realized something was amiss when the meeting came to an abrupt end.

“I'll see you later,” Hux simply said, his voice curt.

Snoke, too, seemed less than pleased. “Yes, I need to speak with you privately, Hux,” he stated.

Kylo didn't have much time to consider it. He left Empire to head over to his accountant, and then an interview for a magazine at a restaurant accompanied by a late lunch, then he had to pack, sort out extended care-taking for his empty apartment in Vancouver, and attend a book launch. It was the type of book that had so many industry connections they were already planning to make a film of it; it had been mentioned to Kylo he was in talks for playing a part, so it was requested he show up and behoove himself to the author.

He didn't see nor hear from Hux until the launch, when he showed up in a different suit from that morning, but the same indifferent yet intense expression as always. “Well, I guess after this you're not going to need much managing until the new year,” he said, dryly.

“Have you set up the studio rental?”

“Yes, you'll have it most of January.”

“Where is it?”

“Vancouver.”

“Good.”

“I know you don't like L.A. this time of year,” Hux said, with a shrug. “But by all means if you feel you're too happy in Vancouver and it's not stimulating you creatively, come on back to L.A. and be your talented, emo self here.”

“Aw, you called me talented.”

Hux rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “I have to go,” he said shortly. “Merry Christmas. And if I don't see you, Happy New Year.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. You too.”

He watched Hux slip between a few people and then disappear. Feeling oddly alone, Kylo turned away and noticed that the author was finally standing by herself. It was time to go say hi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Wrote this story ages back so I've decided to revisit it now that the trilogy is over. I'm not entirely sure about the pairings in the background, but it definitely will be Kylux at the forefront. It is gonna be fluffy and sweet. I'll add more background as we go on! Love ya ❤
> 
> See me in my hideous glory at vodkertonic @ tumblr~ if you want


	2. Homecoming

Kylo only took first class flights because he liked the privacy more than anything else it offered. He always ended up falling asleep right before takeoff, no matter when or where the flight was; it comforted him to know someone _probably_ wasn't going to take a photo of him drooling against the plane window and put it on Instagram.

Also, his legs were just too damn long for economy.

He had told his mother he wouldn't need a ride, but he knew that wouldn't dissuade her. However, he was surprised upon exiting the arrivals gate to see not Leia but his Uncle Luke standing there.

He had once been a clean cut, boyish fellow; there were images of him from when he was younger where he looked a bit like some sort of changeling, with his hair soft and lustrous and his eyes big and dewy. Over the years he became more grizzled, though. Now he was every iota the image of a musical veteran and he had the tattoos to prove it. “Ben, there you are,” he exclaimed, slinging his arm around Kylo's shoulders. “Come on, let's get a drink before taking you home.”

The momentary distraction was much appreciated. Luke and Leia were close – Kylo knew that they had depended heavily on each other when they were growing up – but they also kept their lives separate when they could. It was through Luke that Leia had met Han, and in the later years of the marriage – and Kylo’s childhood – Luke had been at the centre of many of their arguments. Sometimes, when the arguments were particularly bad, rather than pick a side Luke would take Kylo on a camping trip or something equally similar to packing up and disappearing from the fray.

“You're dad's fine, just not taking care of himself the way he should,” Luke said. They sat in the window of some random restaurant on their way back from the airport, each drinking a Corona. Kylo was enjoying the winter scenery before him, people passing back and forth bundled up in their coats and carrying shopping bags in preparations for holiday gift-giving.

_This is much better than L.A._

“He thinks he's invincible,” Kylo commented.

“Always has.”

“How's mom taking it all?”

“Not bad. She still worries more about you than she does for anyone else in the galaxy,” Luke said, with a shrug. “Head's up, she's not going to _explicitly_ tell you that you're too thin, but she's definitely going to try to feed you up. She's been doing that with my new protégé. You'll meet her soon, I hope.”

“Mom did always like to fix things.” This, Kylo said with some accidental bitterness, earning him a frown from his uncle.

“Your mother is a powerful woman, but she’s always had a lot on her plate,” Luke said. “And you were no picnic as a child and you still aren't, I can guarantee you that.”

“Damn, don't sugarcoat it for me or anything.”

Luke laughed. “Come on,” he said, draining the last of his beer. “We better get going before she sends a search party.”

Of course they didn't head for home, because no one would be there. Instead they stopped at the New Republic.

The bar was Leia's passion. She had opened it when she was twenty and had no idea what she was doing; Luke helped her out in the days before he founded Skywalker Studios. It had started as a total dive, the kind of place where brawls abounded and you couldn't walk around in your bare feet. Naturally, it was also where she got to know a handsome man named Han Solo and fell in love.

It took many years of love and care; Kylo knew because there had been at least two books published so far about the history of the New Republic, and he'd read one of them. Leia had raised it up from a dinghy bar on the wrong side of town into a cultural magnet. The neighbourhood wasn't at all like it used to be anymore either, now boasting numerous coffee houses, art galleries, and live music venues.

Their family had been swimming in royalties ever since Padme, but they didn't even need it; the New Republic always did a roaring trade. It was a popular stop for touring musicians and budding artists trying to get in touch with their musical roots, or whatever. And the tourists came and went.

Most days it opened at five in the afternoon for the first dinner rush, and stayed open until three in the morning, so by the time they showed up the front entrance was locked. He and Luke went in through the back, the door propped open. Someone was cataloguing the liquor order in the back fridge, but since Kylo saw a shadow of his mother out front assumed it was an employee he didn't know and just headed towards Leia.

“Oh, Ben!” Admittedly, it was rewarding to have someone _that_ happy to see him. Whatever friction existed between them was a fair price to pay in return for her love. She enfolded him in a hug so tight he felt a near-dangerous pressure on his spine. “So good to see you! I missed you!”

“Missed you, too.” He hugged her back, more delicately. “Where's dad?”

“In the office. Thanks for getting him, Luke.”

“My pleasure.” His uncle shrugged. “I was starting to forget what he looked like.”

“Ha,” Kylo said, dryly, before heading towards the office.

Han was sitting at the desk, grey head bent down over the keyboard. Kylo knew his father was fine with technology, but the man still, infuriatingly, chicken-typed. When the older man looked up, the happiness was genuine, Kylo could see that much. He felt a sting inside of his chest.

“Ben, there you are,” Han grinned. “Didn't see you there. You're just like a tall shadow.”

Kylo gave the older man a faint smile. “How's your heart?”

“Oh, you know. Beating away.” His father waved his hand dismissively. “Come on – sit. I wanted to talk to you.”

Kylo warily lowered himself in the chair across the desk from his father. “About what?”

Han gave him a rueful smile. “It's nothing.” He said. “Well, I mean, it's not nothing. It's just – I know coming home is hard for you, but I appreciate it. Your mom and I really do miss you.”

Kylo softened, slightly. “I'm glad to be back, too,” he admitted, casting a gaze around the office. New shelves, he noticed. “I miss this place. I... missed you both.”

Han chuckled. “Well, your mother will put you to work soon, no doubt,” he said. “And if you want to play a couple unplugged shows, that's alright with us, but just let your mom know. She doesn't want you to think she just wants you back since you're... famous? You famous yet, kid?”

“Not as famous as you, dad,” Kylo said, giving Han a Top-Gun-esque salute. Han laughed, and Kylo allowed himself to just ignore all of the unsaid things between them. _Just be happy_ , he told himself. _Just be here for awhile_. He suddenly wished Hux was with him, a strange and wild concept, but the truth was Kylo felt like Hux could manage anything for him – including talking to his father.

Going back out into the bar proper, Kylo was treated to a new face standing behind the main counter, weighing liquor bottles and talking to his mother.

He was lean, with dusky skin and curling black hair that fell into his eyes in a much more attractively roguish way than Kylo's did. His white henley was snug, stretching tight over a very fit body, and his jeans hung just low enough to reveal the band of his briefs. Kylo had met a great deal of attractive people, especially lately as he toured around, and this man looked more like a VIP than a bartender.

“There you are, Ben,” Leia said, as if Kylo had been hiding. “This is Poe. He's our bartender and all around handyman. Be nice to him.”

“Hey,” Poe said, flashing a megawatt smile. He dried his hands on a clean-ish looking bar rag and reached out to shake Kylo's hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I've been assured you're pompous, but not _rockstar_ pompous.”

Kylo let a small smile form. “I prefer the term arrogant, actually.”

“I was just discussing with Poe about how we'll be altering our hours the week before Christmas,” Leia said. “We won't have many musical acts lined up, so we'll be switching ourselves into a brunch and lunch place later in the month, maybe do some afternoon open mic. That way we'll be able to have our dinners and parties.”

“I hope you're not doing that for me,” Kylo said, frowning.

But Leia was shaking her head. “You're too young to remember the timing, but we did it in the old days,” she said. “I'm sure you remember all those big parties up at the house that we used to have. That was always around Christmas.”

Kylo thought about it, digging back into his memories speckled with all sorts of scenes – the house done up with gleaming decorations, food everywhere, the whole place bursting with people and activity. “Yeah, I think I do remember that.”

“Well, with your father's heart scare, you here, and everything else happening, we thought now might be a good year to try it again.”

“Everything else?” Kylo echoed, but Leia was already heading towards the office.

Kylo turned his gaze onto Poe, who was back to measuring the liquor. Who knows where Luke went – he might have left already for the studio – so he decided he may as well stick around and make himself useful. “Want help?” he asked. “I used to bartend here too.”

“Sure.”

Kylo made his way to the other side of the bar. There was something very soothing about the math of weighing the liquor bottles – matching everything up, making sure the ounces were accounted for. He wondered how they did it in America, with free pouring, but here each shot was weighed and counted.

“So what's it like being on tour?” Poe asked, after they companionably made it through the first shelf of liquor.

“You know. Long. Are you a musician, too?”

Poe shrugged. “I dabble,” he said. “I like to sing. But there are more talented folks out there.”

“Ever play a show here?”

“Ha! I'd probably piss myself in fear. The greats have all played here.”

“Yeah, but some shitty ones have, too.”

Poe started laughing, and Kylo realized too late he had been unintentionally insulting. “I guess someone has to be, right?”

“I'm back!”

So Luke _had_ briefly disappeared for real, then, instead of just hiding. Kylo looked up from the chart he was recording the numbers onto while Poe spoke them aloud, and was only vaguely surprised to see his uncle was not unaccompanied.

She was a thin girl with a sort of square face and dark hair. She had an effortlessly pretty look to her, something he hadn't seen much of on tour. Barefaced and devoid of any makeup, she wore a long baggy sweater over tight skinny jeans. She looked a bit like an out of shape, punk ballerina; she also seemed _familiar_ , but Kylo couldn't put his finger on it.

“This is Rey,” Luke said, proudly.

“Hi,” she said, smiling wide, holding her hand out to Kylo. It didn't click until he was close enough to take her hand and noticed the murky depth of her eyes: Rey, pop rock's new face. Her song 'Sand Dunes' had been featured in the trailer of a new superhero movie, and he'd seen a few op eds about her in the past month or so. Her face always plastered with makeup, of course; no wonder he didn't recognise her.

“Hi,” he replied. “Love the song.” She blushed.

“Rey's recording her new album right now,” Luke said. Never in Kylo's entire life had his uncle looked the way he did just then, pleased and very nearly bragging. “Very talented. Just what the industry needs.” She shuffled her feet.

“D'you want some help, Poe?” she asked, quickly.

“Nah, I'm fine. Got me a new helper today,” he said, thumbing towards Kylo. “Besides, you're playing tonight, you need to rest up.”

“I don't,” she scoffed, before colouring slightly. “Well, I do. I do take it seriously,” she explained hastily, her eyes drifting uncertainly over Kylo’s face. “I'm so happy for the opportunity to play here-”

“Relax, I'm just the boss' kid. I couldn't give a shit what you do to prep for a show,” Kylo shrugged.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Don't worry, Ben,” he said. “She's just nervous around you. Sooner or later she'll understand you're not worth it, like the rest of us have.”

“So why Kylo when your name is Ben?” Poe asked, bluntly. “I've been wondering about that.”

“Oh.” Kylo paused. “Well, it's... kind of a weird story...”

Leia snorted from the entry into the staff area, startling all of them. “Weird?” she said, looking positively wicked with amusement. “It's ridiculous. My wonderful son, _Ben Kyle Solo_ , has terrible handwriting. And terrible printing, come to think of it.”

Poe paused, obviously putting that together in his mind. Then his face cracked into a smile. “It's a misread?” he asked.

“Kyle turns into Kylo and Ben turns into Ren,” Kylo admitted. “Then I swapped it around. It seemed easier than coming up with something totally new...” he trailed off, annoyed by Rey's sniggering.

“Sorry,” she said. “No, that's really cute.”

“Hmph.”

“Can we selfie later?” Rey asked. “For my Instagram? Please?”

“We can do it now, if you want. Or is my airplane hair really that bad?”

Rey's face brightened up. It was hard to match this girl up with her moody song, but that was the beauty of music, wasn't it? To reveal what wasn't easily seen. “No, it looks great,” she said, pulling out her phone. “It's more me, I'm not wearing any makeup... but I guess that's what filters are for...”

She swiped over her screen but, suddenly, her face fell. “Aw, that sucks,” she said.

“What does? Did you delete the makeup app?”

“Music news. The TIE Fighters are suing The TIE Fighters,” Luke answered for her. “I heard about it this morning.”

“That sounds familiar,” Poe mused.

“They're a band,” Rey explained. “Well, they were. Really good, industrial sound. They're one of my influences but they only ever had the one album before they disbanded.”

“So, what?” Kylo asked. “One half is suing the other?”

“Looks that way.”

“Why?” Poe asked.

Kylo answered. “Money,” he said. “It's always money.”

Rey nodded, looking sad. “They played here once,” she said, looking around the club. “I checked. But only the once.”

“Were they locals?”

“No.”

Kylo ran his fingers through his hair. “Let's get that selfie,” he said. “Tag me in it, okay?” As much as he wanted to succeed on his own and distance himself from the helpful embrace of his family, he wasn't going to sit around and pretend he wasn't related to these people, and that his uncle was not supporting Rey's career.

“You're not as pompous as I thought you'd be,” Poe said quietly, aside, after Rey began gleefully flipping through filters.

“Arrogant, remember? Just give it time,” Kylo whispered back. Poe was funny, attractive; the kind of guy who wafted through life, so it was fun to flirt and be playful. Too bad full on seduction would probably be a bad idea. Poe was looking at Rey with the sort of wordless expression on his face that, in the end, needed no explanation.

Upon first meeting her a less experienced Kylo, and most people, might not have thought much of Rey. She didn't act like her music, and that was usually a red flag for people who demanded authenticity in a world that was anything but.

As soon as she was onstage, though, the honesty of her underneath those lights could not be denied. Luke knew what he was doing and he understood talent; and he'd always been able to see beneath the surface. He would be surprised if his uncle could read a book without opening the cover; people always revealed themselves to him in time and with patience.

Rey's eyes were angry, haunted, and fearsome with depth. She controlled her guitar and the synthesizer in tandem as she sang, and her body snapped around like a strobe light, or a flicker of lightning. Her music was thunder crashing outwards. In a smaller venue like this she occupied the whole room; he wondered what she'd be like in an arena. At the end Kylo shouted for an encore from where he stood behind the bar, and he didn't do it just to be polite. He wasn’t the only one: the local music scene was eating her up, and there was a generous crowd that was there to hear her play.

Throughout the evening very few people seemed to recognize him, probably because he was standing next to Poe. Kylo understood people mostly found him attractive because he was famous and not much else, but Poe was _actually_ attractive and that counted for more when you were an anonymous bartender.

“Nah, keep it, I just wanted a good spot for the show,” Kylo said, shoving the tips Poe was trying to halve back over to him. “Good angle from here.”

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his old bed in his old room in his old house.

He'd been surprised when he'd discovered that Rey was staying with his parents, but when he asked his mother about it she'd just shrugged.

“Rey's had a hard life,” she said, frankly. “And we have more than enough room at home.”

It was true. The house was built for a much bigger family; Padme and Anakin had designed it especially, back when the world was still shiny and new, with the purpose of raising a large family. Then Padme had died.

The place was full of what were now guest bedrooms, which wasn't so bad. Leia and Han always liked having company over. Luke had even lived there up until Skywalker Studios became established (he now lived above it), and ever since then there had been a steady stream of family, friends and, yes, sometimes artists in-between a move from here to L.A. or elsewhere.

Rey was staying in the room on the second floor, two doors down from Kylo's room, and arguably one of the larger guest accommodations in the house. It looked the same as usual, though from what he glimpsed the night before she had carefully made it her own. There were unfamiliar books shelved on the opposite side of the window, and a battered guitar on a stand next to the bed.

There was a soft knock at his door and then Rey opened it, peeking in. “Hey, Ben,” she said. “Your parents are asleep still but I wondered if you wanted pancakes? I'm going to make some.”

“I'll help.”

Downstairs, rooting through the fridge was an exercise in restraint. He'd never seen it so well stocked, even during his growing teen years when he had, to quote Leia, nearly eaten the family out of house and home. “Damn,” he muttered, digging out a container of blueberries. “Did mom go shopping?”

Having started the coffee maker, Rey was now carefully dumping out measuring cups of pancake mix into a bowl; he noticed her duck her head slightly, when he spoke. “I did that,” she said.

“Huh.”

“It's the least I could do,” she said, adding water to the mix. “With your parents letting me stay, and all. They've been too busy to do the shopping.”

“They're always like that,” Kylo said easily, heating up the skillet. “So what's your story?”

She shrugged.

“You don't have to tell me the long version or anything,” Kylo said. “You don't have to tell me anything. But one artist to another, how did you end up involved with my uncle Luke?”

He noticed her shoulders relax, slightly; that was the only indication she had been tense in the first place. “I'm not ashamed,” she said, frankly. “I just don't trust easily. But your family earned it. Luke found me busking on the corner about six months back, said I had real talent. I thought he was just another asshole but he kept finding me and tipping me and offering to let me use his studio. I finally went to check it out.

“That's when I saw he was the real deal, you know. I would stash my guitar there at night because... well, because it was the only valuable thing I had. I knew it would be safe there.”

He didn't need her to say it; he could figure out she'd likely been homeless. Probably one of the many people who spent their summers in cities like this, before heading south or east towards Vancouver for a milder winter. “So how did you end up staying here?”

“It sort of just... happened.” She shrugged. “I can't pinpoint it. I would be in the New Republic, helping out – your mom gave me a job there, doing some upkeep, cleaning, that kind of thing. Then one night I just ended up coming back here with them and it sort of became the arrangement.”

She gave him a very direct look. “You have good people as parents,” she stated.

Kylo poured dollops of batter onto the skillet, doctored with blueberries. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, then decided to change the subject. “How's your album coming along?”

“Great. Would you... like to listen to it, sometime?”

“Sure.”

She brightened.

“You know,” he continued, flipping the pancakes. “Your story is great fodder for the tabloids. If you felt like talking about it, anyway.”

“I don't.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do they try to get you to talk about...” she trailed off, then waved her arm about, as if to take in the entirety of his family's legacy in one motion. “All this?”

“Oh, sure. But I don't. There are enough books written about my family and more in the works, I bet. People can go there for their answers.”

“I read some of your book collection,” she said, surprising him. “The ones you left here. Sorry if I shouldn't have.”

“What do I care? They're just books. Unless you read my journals.”

She laughed. “I’m not like _that_.”

“Good.” He smiled, and she smiled back. “So which books?”

“Well, I read the history of the New Republic,” Rey said. “I had no idea about any of it. And then some of your other books on music genres. And a couple of those really silly pulp sci-fis.”

“Ah, those are the best. You read a lot?”

“Yeah,” Rey nodded, helping him pile pancakes on a plate. “I've spent a lot of time in libraries.”

“Ah, there you are.” That was Leia, bundled up in a housecoat Kylo had gotten her two birthdays ago. She greeted each of them with a hug and a kiss; typically Leia. “Good morning, you two. Glad to see you're getting along.”

“I'll poison him later,” Rey said, straight-faced. “And then there will only be me.”

So; the holidays. It was time to relax.

The thing was, Kylo wasn't sure he knew how to relax anymore. The last nine months had been an all-hands-on-deck whirlwind of concerts, press, songwriting, and travel. He knew he had to take the time to stop, though, because otherwise he would burn out.

During tour, relaxing just meant sleeping in and precious hours of solitude. At home, he had no idea what to do with himself. He supposed he could sit and read. But he had spent so much of touring sitting around waiting until he arrived somewhere. He could work out, maybe?

Rey solved it for him. “Want to come with me to Poe's?” she asked. “If you're a dog person he has one.”

Kylo was very much a dog person.

“This is your car, right?” Rey asked, pulling up short before getting into the driver's side. “Um, I've been driving it.”

Actually, Kylo remembered that specific conversation with his mother, asking him if he minded anyone using his car. It was a Nissan Sentra, hardly worthy of a rockstar, but it was in good condition. Honestly it had just been sitting around in his parents' garage because he hadn't bothered selling it, so he hadn't cared. “That’s fine,” he shrugged, getting into the passenger seat. In any case, she was the one who knew where they were going.

Poe lived about half a dozen blocks away from the New Republic, off the main drag, right before the neighbourhood started getting a bit shifty again. It was a small house, well decorated with coloured lights for the season, and a snowman in the front yard that had clearly been built by a few drunk adults.

This was Canada, so the door was unlocked. Rey let herself in. “Hey, everyone!” she called out. “We're here!”

The first to greet them was the dog. Kylo expected someone like Poe to own a big, hulking animal, but instead it was a scrappy looking terrier that barrelled out, making a beeline for Rey. She hefted him up in her arms. “This is Beebee,” she explained.

“He looks ridiculous,” Kylo said, scratching behind the animal's ears. He did his best to restrain himself; he'd always been that guest at house parties who went 'there's a dog here?' and then disappeared for the rest of the night to play with it.

As they rounded the corner to the front living room, there were two people sitting on the couch: one was Poe, the other a woman Kylo didn't know. Poe jumped up to his feet.

“Hey guys,” he said, before checking his cell phone. “Ah! It's after noon. Can I get you a beer?”

“Sure,” Kylo said. Hell, he was on vacation.

“I wouldn't mind tea,” Rey said, putting Beebee down.

“Um,” the woman on the couch said, slowly. “Is that... Kylo Ren?”

“Oh,” Poe said. “Yeah. It is.”

“Hey,” Kylo said.

“Dude, you are _way_ taller than I thought you'd be,” the woman said.

Poe's roommates were Jessica and the currently absent Wexley, who had the unfortunate case of a ridiculous first name and a weird nickname and an acceptable surname. He managed an antique store two blocks down from New Republic.

Jessica, upon realizing that Kylo Ren was in her home, had immediately excused herself to change out of her pyjamas and brush her hair. She was a full time engineering student at the nearby university and a part time barista at a local cafe. “Living the cliched Nineties dream,” Poe said.

Having been given permission, Kylo was holding Beebee in his lap and cuddling him. Rey took a picture to put on his Instagram later. “People love guys with dogs,” she said.

“That's why people love me,” Poe said. “Beebee.”

Kylo held the terrier close to his chest, allowing Beebee to nuzzle his ear. “It's why I love you,” he said. Poe pretended to blush and flutter his eyelashes.

Jessica covered her face in her hands. “I'm dying,” she said. “I can't deal with this. I was watching YouTube videos of you the other night and now you're here. But what if I leave and come back and it was all just something I dreamed up?”

“As dreams go it's pretty realistic, Jess,” Poe said dryly. “He _is_ my boss' son. He was bound to show up sooner or later.”

“I'm gonna go study,” she said. “My last final is on Thursday. Next time I see you maybe I won't be so weird,” she added to Kylo as she sulked out of the living room.

They decided to order a couple of pizzas (Jess came out of hiding to take several slices to her room before going back to her notes) and Kylo watched the other two play Mario Kart. “So how often are you at the studio?” he asked Rey. Beebee had still not budged from his lap.

“Whenever Luke's there,” she said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Or he has meetings. Four days a week, maybe? And I work at New Republic some evenings.”

“And I'm there pretty much every night they're open,” Poe added. “And some days they're not. Hey, are you going to do a show there while you're back?”

“I was thinking about it.”

Poe threw up his hands in defeat while Rey whooped over victory. “I saw a news story about the band you like this morning,” Poe said, separating a slice of pizza from its pack. “They're being counter-sued now by the original sue-ees.”

Rey sighed.

“I don't ever want music to become about money for me,” she said, almost to herself. Kylo and Poe exchanged glances.

“I'm not sure I've ever heard them,” Kylo said, to hurry the subject forward.

“You might have once,” Poe reminded him. “If Rey's right and they played at New Republic. You said you were there all the time.”

“That's true. But I heard a lot of asshats play.”

“I'm sure you would recognize a song if you heard it,” Rey said. “I loved them. They had this lead singer – just this huge, powerful woman. She was taller than everyone else in the band but she was _built_ , not like me. When I was a kid I just always envied that, you know? Their sound was good, don't get me wrong. But the way she was... the way the band was. So cool. But you can't find any good band merch from them. They just kinda came and went.”

“We have pictures from almost every show played at the New Republic,” Kylo said. “I mean, a few maybe missed in the early days but yeah, ever since I was born every show was photographed in case they made it big. We could find one and... make it a poster, or something. Put it in that sad empty room you're sleeping in right now.”

She kicked him lightly on the ankle. “Thanks,” she said, dryly. “But I haven't seen any pictures of them and I went through them all. They're all on the computer at work.”

“Not all of them,” Kylo corrected. “We've got albums at home. The digital age is new, remember?”

A certain light came to Rey's eyes. “Oh, wow,” she said. “Hey, wait – are there baby pictures of you at home?”

“Probably. As the only child, I was kind of a big deal around there in the Nineties.”

“Let's find a picture of baby Ben in the tub and frame it down at the bar,” Poe said.

Kylo narrowed his eyes. “I'll kill you,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for joining in on this adventure!  
> While I'm referring to him as 'Kylo' for now, he'll eventually become 'Ben' - once he remembers that he's home :)


End file.
